The Hangover
by JinnySkeans
Summary: It started off as an innocent trip to Vegas shared with their friends. It ended with...well, maybe they'll tell you, if they ever remember. AU
1. Waking Up in Vegas

Sunlight streamed in through the Venetian blinds, warming her face as she stirred from a sound sleep.

It was quiet in the room save for the gentle hum of the air conditioner. The sheets were warm and satiny against her skin; the pillow beneath her aching head was gloriously stuffed and she never wanted to move again.

She had been drinking last night, that much was obvious, judging from the familiar throb in her temples that heralded a vicious hangover. Her mouth was dry, and when she sat up, she felt dizzy and needed a moment to make sense of her surroundings.

The digital clock on the bedside table read 11:43 am; she cursed lightly under her breath. The others would be angry that she'd overslept, when they'd made plans the day before to have breakfast in the hotel restaurant at ten. Vaguely, she tried to remember what had happened last night and came up completely empty.

Well, she would need to shower, definitely. A night of the hardest partying of her life left her feeling sweaty and rough. Sakura swung her legs over the side of the bed, the sheets falling from her body, and the unexpected draft caught her off guard.

Surprised, she looked down to discover that she was completely naked. _What the hell did I do last night?_ she wondered. Sakura never slept naked. Somewhat embarrassed, even in the solitude of her hotel room, she grabbed the sheets she'd just discarded and wrapped them around her body before moving towards the bathroom.

The room, she realized slowly, as her mental faculties returned to her, was a mess. Clothes were strewn across the floor, blankets thrown over upturned chairs, one of the curtains dangling precariously off the curtain rod over the window. The pounding in her head made it difficult to retrace her steps last night, and the sorry state of the once-pristine Caesar's Palace room was a complete mystery to her.

She tripped and nearly dropped to the floor over one of her discarded stilettos and cursed colorfully under her breath. The sudden movement made her head spin again and she grabbed the wall for support, one hand holding the sheet around her body, her pink hair a curly, wild mess in her eyes.

The metallic pressure around her finger drew her attention.

Sakura rarely wore jewelry, having no patience for anything that could be so easily lost, so the ring on her finger befuddled her. It was silver-no, white gold, with a small but breathtaking diamond inlaid in the center. She was bowled over at its beauty, and her first panicked thought was that she'd gotten drunk the night before and swiped it from a jewelry store. This thing had to cost thousands of dollars; she dreaded spending even a moment in a Vegas jail for shoplifting!

As she contemplated the mystery of the beautiful (probably stolen) ring on her left ring finger, a muffled groan arrested her attention.

_Oh thank God, Ino,_ Sakura thought in relief. Her best friend and roommate for their trip was probably recovering from the same aching hangover that she was, and hopefully she would be able to shed some insight on what the hell had happened the night before. She looked around towards the bed, but found it empty.

She froze.

Ino wasn't in her bed.

So who the hell _groaned?_

Sakura looked back around the room and to her complete and utter shock, saw a long, muscular arm sticking out from underneath the rumpled covers on the bed.

Her eyes widened.

_No way,_ she thought. _I slept with someone last night?_

She wracked her brains desperately, trying to figure out who it was, and what she was supposed to do with him now. _Absolutely nothing_ came to her to remind her of what she'd done last night. Or, more specifically, _who._

The man (God she hoped it was a man) was hidden from view, his head buried beneath a pillow, and only his arm visible. Sakura's eyes traced the sinewy, corded muscles and jumped when his fingers twitched. A glint of metal caught her eye, and she realized he was wearing a ring.

_Who do I know that wears a ring?_ she thought wildly. _Not Kiba, not Naruto, not Sasuke-kun, not Shikamaru...damn it, it must be a stranger then, great, Sakura, meet some guy your third night in Vegas and bring him to your room and GOD WHAT IF HE'S MARRIED OHMYGOD YOU BANGED A MARRIED MAN YOU WHORE!_

Sakura was panicking by now. It was as if the previous 24 hours had been completely erased from her memory, and now there was a married man _she did not know_ lying in the bed she'd just vacated.

_And where the hell is everyone?_

She made the plan quickly. Grab her clothes (she spotted the body-con dress she'd squeezed into the night before lying on the overturned chair) and get the hell out of there before the stranger woke up, hopefully find one of her friends and forget this whole debacle ever happened.

It was a good idea.

At least, until there was a muffled groan from the bedsheets, and the stranger woke up. Sakura gulped as she saw a messy mop of jet black hair and a familiar face emerge from the cocoon of covers she'd just vacated. Her stomach dropped.

"Hn," Sasuke muttered. He ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he shook his messy hair. The covers slipped further down his chest to reveal that he was shirtless. Sakura's face turned _scarlet_ as she counted the various dark marks on his neck and clavicle made (obviously, horrifyingly) by _her._

Then, because her life _couldn't get any worse,_ Sasuke glanced down at the ring gleaming on the ring finger of his hand.

Of his _left_ hand.

Sakura watched his brow furrow in confusion, before his eyes widened, and she couldn't stop the squeal of horror that erupted from her throat.

Sasuke's eyes snapped to her face in alarm, and slid slowly over her body concealed sloppily in the wrinkled bedsheet, down to the absurdly beautiful ring on her finger, before back to her wide green eyes.

Vegas. Matching rings. Splitting headache. No memory. Sex.

Sakura wasn't able to read Sasuke's thoughts often, but there was no mistaking the absolute horror that filled him up from within.

He opened his (gorgeous) mouth and said,

"Shit."

_What the hell happened last night?_

**note..** About the last thing in the world I should be doing with ONE DAY BEFORE I GET MARRIED is putting up a new story, but I have marriage on the brain and I am too anxious to do anything logical right now. Terror is mine. LAST NIGHT AS A BACHELORETTE, Y'ALL.

So here's a story about weddings.

Love you guys.


	2. Bodyguard Mission

**One Week Ago**

"For the last time, dobe, _no._" Sasuke didn't look up from beneath the hood of his car to see what shit-eating grin Naruto was sporting, or what lame attempt at puppy eyes his idiot best friend was stupid enough to think might change his mind.

"Oh, come on, teme, it's not like you had _plans,_" Naruto whined. "We're about to enter our last year of college, man! We need a vacation!"

"What makes you think," Sasuke muttered, focusing exclusively on the Vr6 engine he was attempting to polish, "that I'd have any interest in going to Las Vegas?"

"IT'S A RITE OF PASSAGE, IDIOT!" Naruto's voice lilted to astonishing volumes, and Sasuke gritted his teeth in annoyance.

What started out as a nice, balmy day spent working on his car in the privacy of his own garage, had turned into his best friend's increasingly desperate attempts to lure him on some half-cocked entourage trip to Vegas now that summer vacation had arrived. He supposed he should have seen this coming, now that Sakura (the baby of the group) had turned 21, which meant all of them were of age.

He couldn't think of any place in the world he would rather be _less_ than Las Vegas, Nevada.

"It's Sin City!" Naruto spoke with such reverence typically reserved exclusively for his favorite flavor of ramen. (Whichever flavor sat in front of him at any given moment constituted as his favorite.) He was making it abundantly difficult for Sasuke to concentrate on his work, but that was always Naruto's M.O. "Come on man, everyone's going!"

"Everyone but me," Sasuke replied irritably. "Now buzz off, I'm working."

"All the guys are going," Naruto went on, unfazed by Sasuke's disinterest. "Me, Lazyass, Dogbreath…" He counted off on his fingers.

"Hn." The prospect of a week in Vegas with Naruto, Shikamaru, and Sai was even less inviting than the city itself. He leaned back from under the hood, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm, and sighed. There was no drowning out Naruto's voice, so a break was in order.

"Hinata can't go," Naruto sighed, sounding disappointed. "Her father would never let her go to Vegas, plus she has that summer internship downtown she can't get away from. But Ino's going! Oh, and so is _Sakura!_"

He said her name with such unmistakable salaciousness that Sasuke rolled his eyes. Grabbing a towel from his tool rack, he wiped his hands off before heading upstairs and prepared himself for the onslaught, Naruto right on his heels.

"Come on, don't even kid yourself, you know you're not gonna let Sakura go without you."

"Dick," Sasuke returned, his bad mood worsening as he tried to enter his bathroom to wash his hands, but Naruto stood blocking it, blue eyes full of mischief, eyebrows waggling.

"Just picture it, a girl as cute as Sakura hittin' up the bars on the Strip, dressed all fly and whatever…you don't even like when she walks to _class_ without you, how are you gonna let her get on that plane with just us?"

"What she does is _her_ business," Sasuke replied stiffly, sidestepping his best friend and stalking bad-temperedly into the bathroom. "I couldn't care less."

"Look, asshole, your inability to admit your feelings for Sakura is adorable and all, but you and I both know how much it bothers you when she goes anywhere without you so why don't you just cut the crap and-"

Sasuke's eyes narrowed angrily but he said nothing, merely shooting Naruto a dirty look as he scrubbed the grease from between his fingers in the bathroom sink. His white V-neck T-shirt was unsalvageable, smeared with oil and grease and torn at the edges. His hair was tousled and sweaty, and Naruto showed _absolutely no sign_ of letting him alone. His peaceful day was shot to hell.

"Just say yes, man!" Naruto whined. "It's _Vegas._ We can drink and party and gamble and just say you'll come!"

"Will it get you the hell out of my house?" Sasuke snapped, shoving past Naruto to the kitchen. He snatched a beer out of the fridge and smacked the top of it against the counter, loosening the cap.

"Sure will!" Naruto sang victoriously. "I'll have Shikamaru text you the costs and everything. Our flight's next Tuesday night at 8. Something like twelve or thirteen hours or whatever."

"You've got to be kidding."

"Lighten up, asshole, it's gonna be great!" Naruto snatched a beer for himself, expertly dodging Sasuke's grab to take it back from him. "And I'll even pretend that Sakura had nothing to do with your decision to go!"

Sasuke pinched the bridge of his nose. He was going to regret this.

* * *

Konoha Airport was crowded, as per usual. The sun had set and the sky was clear, stars blanketing the navy blue expanse and shining overhead the glass ceiling. Sasuke lugged his suitcase through baggage claim with all the enthusiasm of a child about to undergo root canal.

"Surprised you're coming," Shikamaru murmured; he looked disheveled and grouchy, which Sasuke attributed to the airport's strict No Smoking policy.

"Not like I had much choice," Sasuke replied grumpily. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and followed the others towards Terminal C, where they would meet up with the girls.

He was only here, he reminded himself, because Naruto had aggravated him enough to surrender.

Surely, it had nothing to do with the presence of a certain irritating young woman with irritatingly green eyes and an irritatingly magnetic personality.

Yes, Sakura was his friend. His closest friend, actually, after Naruto, and he cared about her and wanted the best for her. But he drew the line there.

Because there was _no way_ Sasuke was romantically interested in Sakura Haruno, the medical school knockout of Konoha. Even if everyone suspected that they were engaging in some secret love affair, it was entirely unfounded and he had no idea where the rumors were coming from.

He could freely admit that Sakura was attractive, that she had more than earned her title as the prettiest girl at Konoha University. And she was extremely intelligent, having completed her four-year premed program in three years; she'd graduated ahead of everyone a few days earlier, and would be starting at Konoha Medical School in the fall. And she was funny, sweet, charming, adventurous…

But that _did not _mean he was interested in her.

And even if he was, Sasuke rationalized, it was nobody's business but his own.

And maybe Sakura's, if he ever got around to telling her.

Not that there was anything to tell, of course.

But if there was, then…

He growled under his breath at his annoying train of thought and decided to derail it, before it crashed into the town. Naruto was chatting animatedly with Kiba as they debated what to do first when they landed. Shikamaru was fuming from a severe lack of nicotine, and the promise of thirteen more tobacco-less hours on a plane with their ferociously annoying friends. And Sasuke trailed behind, wondering how he'd gotten suckered into this in the first place.

"There you are, boys!" a grating female voice cooed. "We've been waiting for _ages!"_

Ino Yamanaka was one of Sasuke's friends. He supposed that if he didn't count her as such, she would rage at him like some annoying harpy, as was her custom, so it was much less troublesome to call her his friend and be done with it. He'd met worse girls in his life, and she was best friends with-

"Hey, guys!"

Sakura.

Both girls looked as pretty as ever, widely acclaimed as the hottest girls at their college. Ino was dressed ostentatiously, in a purple dress with a plunging neckline and gold strappy heels, her makeup dark and Vegas-worthy. Sakura, however, opted for something more airplane-appropriate, in a simple pink summer dress, boots, and a little denim jacket. Her pink hair was loose and curly down her back, and she looked happy and excited as she waved the boys over.

Sasuke swallowed hard. Of course she couldn't be allowed to wander around Vegas without him there to protect her. She looked a dangerous combination of lovely and innocent, and he could just imagine the attention she'd attract with that bubblegum hair of hers.

This was not a vacation for him: this was a bodyguard mission.

"We left early," Sakura explained, as the boys reached them outside the terminal. "I had to sign some forms at the medical building earlier this afternoon, so we just came right here when I was done."

"It's rude to keep a lady waiting, you know," Ino sniffed. She put her hands on her hips in a show clearly meant to be haughty, but Sasuke couldn't be bothered to care. "Look alive, buttheads, they're boarding in a few minutes. If you make me miss this flight so help me God I will…"

"Cork it, Ino," Shikamaru sighed, even as he draped an arm around his girlfriend's waist. "It's gonna be a shitty long week if you keep this up."

This prompted the pair of them to devolve into a petty argument Sasuke couldn't care less about listening to, so he redirected his attention to Sakura, who was smiling brightly at him.

"What?" he demanded.

"I can't believe you're coming!" she said happily, and he ignored the way his stomach flipped at her reaction. "I thought for sure you wouldn't want to go, when Naruto told me what he was planning."

"Tch. I almost didn't."

"Really?" Sakura's happy smile morphed into a coy little smirk, and her eyes narrowed coquettishly. "Then what changed your mind, Sasuke? The scores of Vegas whores?"

"You are too stupid to insult."

But Sakura was laughing too hard to be offended, and Sasuke felt, to his unease, that he was nowhere near as annoyed with her teasing as he felt he should be.

That was always the problem with Sakura. Theoretically, she was the most annoying person he knew: bright and sunny, and at the same time bearing a witchy temper that flared at the most obnoxious of times; flirty and coy, but painfully innocent and genuine. And frustratingly pretty on top of it all.

In theory, Sakura was a living representative of things he usually found annoying.

In practice, however, she was only a mild irritant. And she was only ever at her most annoying when she _wasn't_ with him.

Sasuke knew the implications of all of this. He was not an idiot.

But he would continue to delude himself into thinking he was. Because _no good could come_ from liking Sakura Haruno publicly. No good could come from adding his name to her growing list of admirers and humiliating himself so un-Sasuke-like.

So he'd keep it all to himself, and hope this unnatural…_attachment_ to her was just a phase.

Just a fifteen-year-long phase.

* * *

Sasuke hated planes.

They were notoriously cramped, full of people who couldn't keep their mouths shut and bodily functions private. There was always one kid screaming and crying because his ears wouldn't pop. There was always some poor soul vomiting profusely into a bag in his vicinity. And there was always _always_ some idiot sitting beside him trying to make conversation.

That idiot happened to be Sakura.

Sakura, who _loved_ planes.

"I love flying," she said, for probably the sixteenth time since they'd taken off. "Leveling out's my favorite part. No wait, I like landing better. Yes, definitely landing. What's your favorite part?"

"None of it."

"None of it?"

"Hn. Hate flying."

"What, is wittle Sasuke afwaid of heights?" she teased him, and his eyes narrowed as he glared at her, a glare meant to intimidate but Sakura had _never_ been afraid of him, to his eternal shame. "Everyone likes flying, Sasuke. Except of course pussies. So are you a pussy?"

This was the problem with planes, Sasuke reasoned, pointedly ignoring Sakura's attempt to rile him up by fishing his iPod out of his jeans. There was absolutely no escape route. There was nowhere he could go to flee the realm of Sakura's personality, except perhaps the bathroom…which he had no intention of using, ever, after a flight attendant attempted to get frisky with him during a flight back in high school.

It wasn't like you could just jump out of a plane because your seatmate was getting on your nerves.

"I'll determine by the lack of response that you are so much of a pussy, you are afraid to _admit_ you are a pussy," Sakura went on.

Now, pushing your seatmate out of a plane…

Sasuke entertained himself briefly by fantasizing about flinging Sakura out of the door of the plane, her resulting scream getting softer and softer until there was just precious, beautiful silence, and he could spend the rest of this godforsaken flight sleeping like he'd wanted to, before she sat herself down beside him all pretty and distracting, and-

"Well hey there, beautiful," a third voice interjected.

Sasuke's eyes snapped up to the guy sitting in front of him, who was turned around in his seat and staring unabashedly at Sakura. Primal instincts within him sprang to life, as they often did around Sakura, for reasons he didn't care to examine. A sort of caveman possessiveness overwhelmed him, and he tensed, preparing for a fight.

"Hello," Sakura returned mildly, before returning to her conversation (one-sided) with Sasuke. "But as I was saying-"

"You ever think about joining the Mile High Club?" the guy went on, smirking, and Sasuke half-rose from his seat. Did this asshole really think he was safe, just because they were in the sky? Did he think he could just make those kinds of remarks to Sakura without worrying about Sasuke's (divine) retribution?

He was _sorely_ mistaken, and Sasuke prepared to choke him with his seatbelt, but was stopped by Sakura's question.

"What's that?" she asked, eyes shining with curiosity, and he clenched his jaw in anger. Of _course_ this little idiot couldn't be permitted to go to Vegas without protection; she had _no idea_ the things she was getting herself into, the dangers that lurked behind every slot machine.

The guy looked taken aback at her unexpected naivete, and he hesitated just long enough to catch the glare Sasuke was shooting him that promised a lifetime of agony. Quickly, stammering out an unintelligible response, he turned back around in his seat and said nothing more.

Sasuke, satisfied with that, turned his anger onto Sakura, who was primly examining her fingernails as though nothing had happened.

"Grow up," he snapped meanly, and she whirled to face him with her mouth open in shock. "You're so fucking immature. He was-"

"Oh, shut up, Sasuke," she shot back, rolling her eyes. "You think I don't know what the fucking Mile High Club is?"

He paused.

"I wasn't born yesterday, you know. I just like catching people offguard, especially creeps, and making them feel awkward. I think you like doing the same thing, judging by the fact that you gave that guy the meanest look I've ever seen in all of my days."

Sasuke had not expected that, another side effect of being near Sakura: a constant lack of control over every situation.

Perhaps she _wasn't_ as naïve as he thought she was. He didn't know how he felt about that (hated it) and resolved to find out exactly _how_ innocent she was, only to feel pressure on his shoulder and look down and see that she was leaning on his arm.

"I'm going to sleep," she muttered, and then her breathing relaxed. Sakura was notorious for her ability to sleep anywhere, anytime, and instantly.

Sasuke stiffened. His heartbeat picked up slightly; he could feel Sakura's, steady and calm, her breath fanning against the exposed skin on his throat. She hummed a little while she slept, the pleasant sound vibrating through his chest. She smelled like cinnamon and clean cotton, the intoxicating aroma twisting into his nostrils until he couldn't get rid of it.

Perhaps Sakura herself was doing the same thing. Carving herself a place deep inside him until he couldn't shake her out again.

He glanced at his watch. 12 hours left on this fucking flight, 12 hours till Vegas. 12 hours of Sakura sleeping on his arm and driving him crazy.

Vegas was the _last_ place a guy like him needed to go, he realized. A guy for whom Lady Luck was no lady.

* * *

**note..** Hi, everyone! Excited to start another silly story that doesn't take itself too seriously. (My personality, for example.)

Thanks for all the wedding well-wishes, I feel like some of you were as excited for as me as I was for myself, and my self-centeredness knows no bounds. You guys are great.

Let me know what you think!


	3. Official

**Now**

There was a silence as loud as fireworks in the room.

Sasuke couldn't do anything but stare. He was half-awake, his head was _throbbing,_ and all he could do was _stare._

Sakura looked slightly demented. Her normally-kempt pink hair was a curly, wild mess falling in tangles down her back. Her green eyes were wide as she kept looking from his face to an incriminating diamond ring on her finger and back again, her cheeks flushed. And she was, apparently, naked, the only thing concealing her body from his view the sheet she'd wrapped haphazardly around herself.

Another beat of deafening silence before Sakura let out a shrill scream.

The noise grated on Sasuke's nerves and he winced.

"Calm down," he snapped, but the reality of what was happening had caught up to Sakura, rendering her utterly incandescent with outrage.

"_Calm down, you bastard?_" she shrieked.

His temper flared. "What did you say?"

"I called you a _bastard,_ you _prick!_ You took advantage of me last night, you must have!"

"The hell I did!" Sasuke threw off the covers and was standing now, wearing nothing but his boxers, and he couldn't stop the blush that spread across his face. "Look, I don't remember what happened last night, but-"

"Well neither do I but it's pretty fucking obvious, isn't it?"

She shoved a finger in his face, and at first he thought she was flipping him off, but upon further inspection he saw that she was showing him the diamond ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. She grabbed his left hand, too, holding it up so he could see the solid gold band that all pointed to one thing:

"We got married," Sasuke muttered. "We got drunk, hooked up, and got married. Jesus _Christ._"

Sakura let out a high-pitched moan of frustration as she threaded her fingers through her hair. "Oh my _God._ How _stupid_ could we _be._ This is _Naruto_ shit, Sasuke! This is _not_ something people like you and I do!"

_Tell me about it,_ he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"It's not a big deal," he murmured. "We'll get it annulled."

"Tch, like we have any idea how to go about _that!_"

"Does it…does it even _count,_ in Vegas?"

"Maybe not, maybe it doesn't, that would make sense, right? I mean it's not like we're the only people to do this and regret it the next day, right? I mean Britney Spears did it, too, remember?"

"No," Sasuke replied flatly. "Is there a certificate or something?"

Sakura gripped the bedsheet around her body more securely and began rummaging around the destroyed room in search of some type of document legally binding them together. Sasuke massaged his temples and attempted to calm his racing heart.

_I slept with Sakura last night._

Somehow, the knowledge of this was more earth-shattering to Sasuke than the fact that, technically, in the eyes of Las Vegas, he was now Sakura's husband. He had married her, taken her back to the hotel, and had sex with her, and he couldn't remember a _thing_ about it.

There was no doubt, though, that they'd slept together. His thighs felt sore, and there were scratch marks on his back and shoulders made by a woman's hands. A quick glance at Sakura, searching through the nightstand, revealed dark marks on her neck and shoulders obviously made by his lips and teeth. He flushed hot as fire and looked away again.

They'd had _sex._

He'd had _sex_ with his friend-since-forever, the prettiest girl he knew, the girl he never thought he could have.

And now they were _married._

Sakura _Uchiha._

_It's not real,_ he thought viciously, refusing to even entertain the idea of validating this sham of a marriage as anything more than a Las Vegas fling. _It means nothing. We just got drunk last night, that's all. It probably doesn't even count, it's just Vegas. This happens all the time. It's probably not even official._

"It's official," Sakura whispered, her voice hollow, and Sasuke cursed himself straight to hell.

He turned around to see her holding an official-looking document with trembling hands. "It's a marriage license," she choked, and he glanced at it numbly to see their names signed (drunkenly) at the bottom of a _legally-binding _Las Vegas marriage license.

"Unfuckingbelievable," Sasuke murmured. He couldn't believe this was happening, but there it was, in black and white.

"I think we can get it annulled right away, if we haven't…consummated the marriage," Sakura whispered, and her cheeks flamed with a fierce blush.

"We did consummate the marriage," Sasuke replied tonelessly. His shock was so great, he couldn't muster the energy to feel properly horrified by what had taken place.

"This is insane," Sakura moaned. "What the hell is wrong with us? We never did _anything romantic at all_ before this fucking trip. Did we do it on a dare or something?"

Sasuke shook his head. Of that much, at least, he was certain. He could easily see himself getting plastered, and Naruto daring him to do something crazy like marry Sakura in a hasty Vegas chapel wedding…but he wouldn't have slept with her afterwards on a bet. Sasuke was many things, but a user of women was not one of them. Least of all, with Sakura.

She was pacing now, looking stressed and worried as she tried to piece back memories of a night she plainly couldn't recall. He was doing the same thing, and with the same result; it was as if someone had zapped the memories clear out of his head. Like last night had never happened at all, except there was a marriage license, two rings, and two _newlyweds_ wearing them to prove that it _had_ happened.

He pictured his parents' reaction to this, were they still alive. The heir to the Uchiha fortune, the son of a respected businessman and his wife, next-in-line to an empire…getting drunk, and marrying his secret crush in a sloppy Vegas wedding neither one of them remembered. He scoffed. What a legacy to the proud Uchiha name.

The mattress beside him dipped down slightly, and he looked over to see Sakura sitting next to him. She sighed.

"Where are our friends?" she asked. "Naruto and Ino and the others. Maybe they can explain what we…what happened last night."

"Hn." He didn't know, but that had to be Step 1 to remembering what went on the previous night.

Well, Step 2. After he showered and dressed and attempted to restore at least _some_ decorum to the situation. He was wearing only boxers, Sakura nothing at all except for a sheet that did little more than show off her perfect figure. Abruptly, he cursed himself for finally pulling her into bed only to plumb _forget the experience_ the next day.

"Why don't you shower and get cleaned up?" Sakura suggested with a gusty sigh. "I'll look for our phones, see if we can figure out what to do now."

The tension between them was too thick at the moment to linger in the room and keep up the conversation, so Sasuke took the out she was offering him and stumbled into the bathroom. His head was killing him and he stared at his reflection in the mirror, at messy hair and scratches on his chest he couldn't remember receiving.

He couldn't stop blushing at himself, and his reality. He'd slept with _Sakura Haruno._ Or, well, technically _Sakura Uchiha._ It was fucking _unbelievable_ that he couldn't remember what they'd done, since it had to have been amazing. Sakura was athletic and flexible, and her body was _killer._

Musing how the world simply wasn't fair, Sasuke jumped into a _freezing cold_ shower and attempted to scrub this hell of a hangover out of his head, and hoped for a little fucking clarity.

He dressed quickly afterwards, towel-dried his hair and brushed his teeth. When he was done, he left the bathroom to find Sakura wearing a hotel bathrobe, a cup of coffee in her hands as she stood by the window.

"I can't find our phones," she said apologetically, holding a second cup out to him. He took it from her, his fingers brushing hers, and they both flushed and looked away.

_We're feeling awkward about our hands touching,_ he thought, amazed at the irony, _but last night I left marks all over her body and we can't even fucking REMEMBER._

"I tried calling them from our hotel extension," she went on, "but nothing. Either they're dead, or they're with the others. Who I also couldn't find. Sasuke this isn't even the right _hotel._ This is _The Mirage._ We booked rooms three days ago at Caesar's Palace. How the _hell_ did we end up here? God."

"Just relax," Sasuke murmured automatically. The coffee tasted bitter on his tongue, but it also woke him up a little.

"So when I couldn't find our cell phones, I called Caesar's Palace and asked them to put me through to Room 3008," Sakura continued. "But they said that room had an emergency checkout late last night, and they didn't leave a number. That's the room Ino and I were staying in, why the hell did we check out? And _where are the boys?_"

"Go get a shower, I'll think of something."

Sakura nodded awkwardly and disappeared into the bathroom he'd just vacated. He sat at the table for twenty minutes doing nothing but _thinking,_ the coffee helping to soothe his nerves a little bit, and the water running in the shower relaxing him somewhat.

They weren't even at the right hotel.

They'd wound up at an entirely different hotel on the Strip with absolutely no recollection of how it had happened. They would need to retrace their steps, he realized, starting with the absolute _only_ clue they had:

He grabbed the marriage license and skimmed through it, trying to ignore the way his stomach flipped upon reading _Sakura Haruno, age 21, _under the column heading of _Wife,_ and found what he needed. A chapel name scrawled across the top in garish gold lettering he was certain you could never find on any marriage license but the kind in Vegas.

Sin City Chapel d'Amore. His lip curled at the name.

"Any leads?" a breezy voice asked. Sasuke looked up and saw Sakura fresh from a shower, looking marginally more relaxed than she had been a few minutes ago.

"Hn. This is where we got…where we went last night." He couldn't bring himself to say the words aloud at the moment. He pointed to the name of the chapel across the top of their marriage license, and Sakura whistled through her teeth in annoyance.

"You know, it's bad enough we fucked up so bad last night," she snapped, "but did we have to do it at a place with a name like _that?_ God we're so _lame!_"

Sasuke smirked. Even in high-pressure situations, Sakura managed to amuse him.

"It's not much to go on, but it's a start," she sighed. "Maybe whoever's working there will be able to give us a clue about what we did last night, yeah?"

"Hn."

This was not how Sasuke expected to spend his vacation.

But he was with Sakura. Hell, he was _married_ to Sakura. At least until they could find a judge to annul this mockery of a civil union.

And with Sakura, nothing, absolutely _nothing_ went according to plan. Not ever.

So their first stop on the way to finding out how royally they'd fucked up last night? Sin City Chapel d'Amore on the Strip. He sighed.

God help them.

Xoxoxo

**Note..** My husband and I, when planning our wedding this spring, flirted with the idea of eloping to Vegas because the whole planning process was a giant pain in the dickpeen. Thus the inspiration for this story was born.

Still think it would've been cool.

Holla at me! :)


	4. Dinner and a Show

**Two Days Ago**

"I'm so excited I am going to throw up," Sakura said reverently, green eyes wide and shining as she looked around the lobby.

"Don't you dare," Sasuke snapped. He was shouldering both his luggage and Sakura's; it was nice of her to pack lighter than Ino, but his arms burned like hell under the weight of forty pairs of shoes. Needless to say, his patience was at an all-time low. Twelve hours on a plane, Sakura Haruno sleeping sweetly on his arm, had taken their toll on him.

Even so, he could admit to himself privately that the lobby to the Caesar's Palace hotel was, in a word, _kickass fucking awesome._ But to agree with Sakura's stupid reaction meant to agree with Sakura herself, and he liked to think he had more dignity than that.

"I can't help it, Sasuke, you know I throw up when I'm excited!"

"So. Fucking. _Annoying._"

"Oh don't listen to him, Forehead!" Ino interjected, and Sasuke shot her a scathing glare as she wrapped an arm bracingly around Sakura's shoulders. "Let's let the boys check us in. We have two rooms, idiots. Third floor, adjacent."

"Sweet!" Kiba whistled. "Who's bunking with me? How 'bout it, Sakura babe?"

Sasuke's eyes narrowed furiously, but when he caught Naruto's knowing smirk, he looked away pointedly, refusing to rise to the bait.

Sakura giggled. He made a mental note to drown her in the hotel bathtub later on for that egregious mutiny.

"Oh please," Ino drawled with an eye roll for good measure. "Keep flirting with her, Kiba, and you'll give Sasuke a stroke." Sasuke made a quick mental note to drown both girls at some point on this trip. "She's rooming with me. And before you get salty about it, Shikamaru," she added, even though Shikamaru didn't look salty at all, "I need to decompress a bit, yafeelme? Girl talk and junk and shit. You'll find some way to ease the long lonely nights without me, I'm sure."

"I need a fucking cigarette," Shikamaru muttered.

"That's how he hides his grief," Ino sighed sympathetically, and Sasuke privately wondered how one person could be so oblivious to everyone and everything around her, before something important occurred to him.

"Hold up," he said hotly. "What the hell do you mean, you two are rooming together?"

"Well, Sasuke," Sakura replied, her excitement-induced nausea eradicated with the prospect of working his temper, "what happens when two friends get a hotel room together is one of them sleeps on one bed and the other sleeps on the other bed. It's called 'sharing.' It's obviously a lesson you skipped out on in kindergarten, most likely to attend the lesson where they taught you how to be a dick most efficiently…"

"You're pushing it," Sasuke snapped, hoping there was a warning glint to his eyes, but Sakura just giggled. On what _planet_ was he not scary enough to frighten her? "I mean, you seriously expect all of _us_ to stay in one room together?" He gestured to himself, Shikamaru, Kiba, and Naruto, all of whom looked aghast at the prospect.

"Well, what do you expect?" Ino shot back, looking supremely unconcerned as she smoothed her sleek blonde ponytail to erase any errant flyaways. "We're poor fucking college students. We could afford two rooms."

"At _Caesar's Palace,_" hissed Sasuke. "One of the most expensive hotels in the _world._"

"Yeah, Ino," Shikamaru chimed in, eyebrows knit together in suspicion. "How the hell'd you pull this off, a hotel like this for all of us? We could never afford it on our own, I know I didn't pay enough for it."

Ino smirked, an evil twist to her red lips, and she gave a little sarcastic curtsy.

"You're welcome, boys. The rooms are comped. We really only had to pay for airfare. Surprise!"

"But why, Ino?" Naruto asked, as everyone's jaws dropped. "Did you offer some type of depraved sexual favor in exchange for these sweet ass Caesar's Palace rooms?"

For as naïve as Naruto could be sometimes, Sasuke privately had to wonder the same thing. It seemed like the only thing Ino Yamanaka could really offer.

"No, moron," Ino snapped. "But when we booked the trip, I mentioned how me and my smoking hot friend Sakura here would be coming along. Hotels and casinos and shit love nothing more than hot barely-legal girls, so they'll give 'em all sorts of free shit just so they stay and attract more people inside. You understand?"

"I understand," Shikamaru said, sounding pained. "I understand you sent pictures of yourself and Sakura to get us discounted rooms at a very expensive, very _exclusive_ Las Vegas hotel. It's immoral. It's probably _illegal._ And above all?"

Sasuke resisted the urge to smirk. This whole time, he thought he would be the lone voice of reason and rationale on this ridiculous trip. But it seemed he had an ally in Shikamaru Nara. Someone who could see the sheer egregiousness of two young, stupid girls vamping themselves to the world in exchange for a few cheap rooms. Someone who could try and keep those two young, stupid girls in line. Someone who could really _understand_ where he was coming from, since Shikamaru was in a similar situation with Ino, and…

"Above all, it's fucking brilliant," Shikamaru finished with a grin.

Sasuke smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. Fuck. It. All.

"Yeah!" Naruto howled, pumping his fist in the air, and attracting quite a bit of attention in the enormous lobby. "Come on, guys, let's get checked in! I want to play shits!"

"You mean craps, Naruto," Sakura sighed, as the group of six made their way to the concierge's desk, laden down with bags. "Not shits. Please don't tell anybody here you want to play shits."

"I thought they were the same thing, though?"

"Not in Vegas, they're not," Kiba chuckled.

"Well, first things first," Ino said bossily, and Sasuke wasn't sure why they didn't just leave her at the airport back in Konoha if she was going to be this irritating. "We need to check out our rooms, and change for dinner."

"Dinner?" Naruto exclaimed. "There's _dinner?_"

"Did you think we weren't going to eat on this trip?" Kiba laughed.

"Yes, dinner," Ino snapped, annoyed apparently that nobody was listening to her properly. "Dinner and then the casinos."

Sasuke had half a mind to argue. He wanted to eat something and collapse in bed for the night. Twelve hours on a plane with no sleep was exhausting, not to mention the compounded stress of dealing with his so-called best friends nonstop with no reprieve. Sakura herself was shaping up to be twice as annoying as anybody else, with her annoying cute dress and sunny smiles and the fact that _everyone in the lobby_ kept glancing at her. The idea of wasting his hard-earned money on a few slot machines long into the night was repellant at best.

But Sakura seemed determined to hit up a casino that evening, judging by the way she nodded her head eagerly along with Ino's bossy plan. And his sole and exclusive function in Vegas was to act as bodyguard to his frustratingly pretty friend, who could not be counted upon to take care of herself for any stretch of time. Which meant, unfortunately, that if Sakura was going to be present at the casino that evening, he would need to go with her.

Weren't vacations supposed to be _relaxing?_

* * *

Sasuke would never, ever, ever in a million years admit to anyone that he liked his hotel room.

But shit, man. He loved it. And part of him had to begrudgingly thank Ino for her shameless self-promotion; without her showy ways, they could never have afforded something like this.

There were two beds and a pull-out sofa in the rather large room. Sasuke claimed one of the beds, the one by the window, and couldn't have cared less which of his friends was going to be stuck on the floor. No one, not even simple-minded Naruto, was foolish enough to challenge his claim, either, apparently sensing his boiling temper simmering right below the surface.

Apparently they had some decent self-preservation instincts.

"I mean, if you guys want, I could always shack up with the girls next door," Kiba was saying conversationally, as the boys all rifled through their suitcases to find something to wear to dinner. "Ino's kind of a bed hog. Shikamaru knows what I mean, right? But Sakura's all cute and little and fun-sized. She'd probably…"

"Don't even start, Kiba," Shikamaru drawled. "You know how Sasuke gets when you talk like that. Look at him now. There's hellfire and damnation in his eyes."

Sasuke determinedly ignored both of them, privately acknowledging the fact that he really was as obvious as Naruto said he was, and that Kiba would need to have his jaw broken if he kept up his shit.

How the hell did you dress for dinner in Vegas, anyways? It wasn't like Sasuke particularly cared where they ate or how he looked doing it. He was in no mood to listen to Ino and Sakura rail on and on about how underdressed he was, how he never took anything seriously, blah blah blah, either. Frustrated, he grabbed a white button-down shirt and a pair of jeans before stalking into the bathroom.

Okay, and yeah, the bathroom was pretty sweet. An enormous bathtub that looked like it was gold-plated, with an impressive array of complimentary soaps, shampoos, and conditioners on the rim. A rack with white towels on it above a pristine-looking toilet; a quick swipe of his hands across the terrycloth confirmed that they were the softest towels he'd ever felt. Four cottony robes hung in the closet, as soft as the towels were, and Sasuke wasn't one for stealing, but there was absolutely no way he wasn't bringing that robe with him back to Konoha.

His muscles were tense and stiff from so many hours on the plane. On a whim, he decided to take a shower, and to his unspoken delight, the water was hot and the stream overhead was perfect. Hard and fast.

Abruptly, and for no fucking good reason, an image of Sakura in the shower exploded forth in his head. He could picture the silhouette she would make, the bathroom steamy and barely dense enough to conceal what had to be a killer body from his eyes, hot water running hard and fast all over her, and…

_What the hell am I thinking?_ He thought, half in disgust, half in panic. This couldn't keep happening to him, it really couldn't. There wasn't any time of day where he was safe from these random, unpredictable mental cockups involving his ill-suppressed fantasies about his frustrating friend.

He adjusted the tap so the water ran colder, cooling any potential arousal before it could claim him, and he scrubbed his scalp with free awesome-ass shampoo hard enough to hurt just to distract himself. There were trigger words he'd learned to associate with Sakura, words that were innocent in and of themselves, but had the frightening ability to make him think of hot, steamy sex with Sakura.

Like hot. And steamy. And sex. Hard. Fast. Wet. Tight.

He was losing his mind. And coming here, to Vegas, to a land where everyone was fucking depraved, wasn't going to help matters.

The fact that he was sleeping twenty feet away from the object of his (desire) frustration wasn't going to help matters.

The fact that he was now picturing what Sakura would look like in his soon-to-be-stolen cottony hotel robe wasn't going to help matters.

Furious with himself, he rinsed the awesome-ass shampoo out of his hair and stomped out of the shower, resolving not to so much as speak to Sakura Haruno at all that evening. He would choke down some dinner, hang around at the casino to eye-assassinate any guy foolish enough to approach her, and then he'd drag her untouched and unfucked back to her room so they could get some sleep.

It was a good plan, he complimented himself, dressing quickly. A sound plan.

And then he went back into the room. And found everyone, girls included, dressed and ready and waiting for him. And saw Sakura in the shortest, tightest, blackest dress he'd ever seen.

She just had to make things hard.

* * *

They grabbed dinner at a restaurant called Hyakumi in the hotel. Sasuke couldn't find it in himself to appreciate the sexy ambiance of the restaurant, the fine detail or even the taste of the five-star cuisine. He was too busy glaring at Sakura, trying to will a fur coat into reality to cover up some of the _whole entire body_ she was displaying.

Everyone else seemed to be having a fabulous time. Ino, dressed far more ostentaiously in a scarlet dress with absolutely zero underwear, was loudly regaling them all with a list of all the hot spots they absolutely had to visit. Naruto was haggling with the waiter, who was trying to explain that they simply didn't serve ramen and to please try something else, while Shikamaru smoked and smoked and smoked to make up for all the cigarettes he didn't have on the flight. All in all, a typical evening.

But that _dress._

Sakura Haruno had a perfect body. This was obvious to anyone who saw her. Years of dance and eating properly and working out, and she looked like a five-foot-one supermodel.

He didn't see why it was necessary to show it off like she was doing.

The dress was black. It was one of those tight ones that clung to her like a second skin (second skin: another of his sex-with-Sakura trigger words) sleeveless and framing a set of absolutely perfect breasts. She'd paired it with come-fuck-me heels that made her legs look killer, and her hair was in curls, her makeup dark and smoldering.

She looked like a Vegas hooker.

He would not admit to anyone how appealing this whole aesthetic was. Sakura was widely acclaimed as the most beautiful girl at Konoha, and that was without pulling out the stops. She usually never went overboard on makeup and kept herself as natural-looking as possible.

So when she went all out? She looked like a fucking Maxim cover, and everybody saw it.

Not that it turned him on or anything. Because it totally didn't. Because Sakura was just-a-friend-nothing-more, and you didn't have sexy fantasies about your just-a-friend-nothing-more.

Nope. None whatsoever. He stabbed his shrimp tempura with a little more gusto than necessary just for something to (stab) do.

"You okay, Sasuke?" Sakura asked, looking at him from across the table. "You look furious. And hostile. And murderous. And…well, you look pretty normal, I guess. How's your food?"

"Put some clothes on," he hissed, the words out before he could stop them. Sakura raised her eyebrows.

"I'm wearing clothes."

"You're wearing a black _condom._"

Seriously. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Whoop, check it out, boys," Ino snickered. "Show's starting."

Sasuke was aware that his arguments were Sakura were vaunted as free entertainment, and if he were thinking properly, under no set circumstances would he allow himself to act as some circus sideshow for his friends' amusement. But he never really could think properly around Sakura, because for whatever reason, his brain shortcircuited in her presence and his common sense went right out the window.

"Excuse me?" Sakura hissed back, her green eyes narrowing and reminding him disturbingly of a cat about to tear the shit out of a bird. "If you're implying that my dress is too tight, then…"

"I'm not implying, idiot," Sasuke snapped. "I'm telling you it is. Too tight. Too short. Too…"

"Too bad," Sakura replied coolly, crossing her arms (which did little more than make her perfect chest pop out, and it took every iota of Sasuke's self-control not to openly stare.) "I'm 21. I can wear what I want. If you have a problem with it, then here's what you do. You take that fork in your hand, you point it prong-first at your eyes, and then you stab and stab until you can't even see this offensive dress anymore. And when you're done, you can find a nice rusty pick axe, and…"

"IF THIS PLACE IS SO TOP NOTCH WHY CAN'T THEY FIGURE OUT HOW TO MAKE RAMEN?" shouted Naruto, whose distress levels at being deprived of his favorite food had reached critical mass. "It's five minutes, man! Five fucking minutes in the mother fucking microwave! It's the easiest thing in the world! I'm supposed to sit here and pay 100 bucks for some food with eyes still on it and they can't even stick ramen in a microwave? What the hell kinda place is this?"

Sasuke's head was pounding. The tempura in his stomach was making him sick, or maybe it was just his asshole friends and that asshole girl sitting across from him, all prim and hot and _stop it, Sasuke, stop saying she's hot stop focusing on it stop thinking it this is EGREGIOUS._

"Excuse me!" the waiter said sharply, approaching him with a well-dressed man, clearly the restaurant manager, at his side. "I am going to have to ask you all to leave. You are a distraction and a nuisance to our other patrons."

Sasuke slammed enough money for his food and Sakura's down on the table before he stood up to leave, and realized his mistake. Here he was telling everyone he wasn't interested in Sakura, that they weren't dating, that they were just friends, but his body acted purely without his mind's consent, and he was paying for her food like a boyfriend.

"Thanks, Sasuke!" she said cheerily, as they were forcibly ejected from the restaurant, the other patrons glaring at them as they left. Any traces of argument between them vanished. Apparently she _could_ be bought. "Did you like the shrimp? It smelled great. A little strong, but melt-in-your-mouth great."

'In your mouth.' Another fucking phrase to avoid. Sasuke shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed, long-suffering.

"You know," Sakura said conspiratorially, her voice low, and he glanced down at her to find her looking up at him with half-hooded eyes, "I thought you'd like this dress. Looks like I was right."

His stomach clenched. Sakura flirted with him sometimes (it could be said he flirted back) but nothing like _this._ Maybe the new outfit made her bolder? Maybe it was just Vegas.

Whatever it was, Sasuke wasn't complaining.

"You can pretend you don't like it. I can tell you do. Or else you wouldn't get so mad."

"It's too short," Sasuke muttered. He glanced behind them to see that Ino and the others were arguing loudly with the manager, throwing out such phrases as 'Discrimination' and 'Prejudice' and 'I still want fucking ramen, fuck it,' and when he looked back at Sakura, he was stunned to see her wind her arm through his.

"It's Vegas," she said simply. "Now what do you say we head over to one of the casinos ourselves? Looks like they're a bit busy at the moment."

Indeed, she was right. Their friends were now screaming profanities at the manager, several waiters, the maitre d, and some foreign tourists who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Apparently, being thrown out of a restaurant mid-meal was an intolerable offense for their friends.

"And you can act like touching a girl is gross and cooties or whatever," she added, with an all-knowing little smirk on her bright red lips, "or you can get over yourself because we're in Vegas, and take me to the cards table and teach me how to play poker. Maybe I'll even blow on your dice."

This girl, he knew, was going to be the death of him. He had a pounding, thunderous migraine, and…

And fuck it. Seriously. She was right. It was Vegas.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with a little bit of flirting in Vegas, was there? Of course not. Even if things returned to normal when they got back to Konoha, there was nothing wrong with a little playful, harmless flirting.

He sighed in surrender, rolled his eyes, and smirked, before he removed his arm from hers, and wound it around her waist instead.

"Hn," he said, while she grinned. "Let's go."

At least when he had this inevitable fatal stroke, he'd do so with the hottest arm candy in the history of Las Vegas.

* * *

**note..** Hey y'all! Gone for a minute on this one, yeah? Hope you haven't forgotten about it.

I love Vegas. (When my girlfriends and I went last year, they comped our room at the Mirage. Girls, go grab your friends and try and get a comped room. VEGAS IS GOOD.)

How'd I do?

xoxo Daisy


	5. A First For Everything

**Two Days Ago**

There was something to never, ever having to pay for a drink that had Sakura in even better spirits than usual.

She knew she would have much to answer for later, when Ino, Naruto, Kiba, and Shikamaru caught up with them; it violated pretty much every law of sisterhood to abandon your best girlfriend to hang out solo with your studly, 6'2" boy-who-is-only-a-friend-even-though-you-love-him- and-everyone-knows.

But it was VEGAS. And you drink for free in the casinos, and the drunker she was getting, the less guilty she was feeling. Ino was bound to have a great time with the boys, and they would all meet up again at the hotel afterwards. As long as Sakura provided Ino plenty of details, she knew she would have her best friend's forgiveness.

Which was exactly how she ended up at the Bellagio, one hand around a chilly glass of vodka cranberry, the other threaded through Sasuke's. She was astonished at how tolerant he was being of her flirtatiousness; usually Sasuke rebuffed any attempt at playful intimacy with flames in his eyes, from her or any of the thousands of girls who thought him attractive enough to risk provoking his wild temper. But here, he was like a different person. Still cool and aloof, but _responsive._

The exposed skin on her lower back still burned with his handprint.

"Teach me how to play poker!" she urged him excitedly, tugging him towards one of the tables. She was buzzed and he must have been, too, because he chuckled, a deep, rumbling chuckle that made her stomach twist and tie in knots. He followed, and stood behind her as she took an available seat at a group of poker players.

"Evenin, Miss," the dealer said with a smile, dealing her in. "The game's Five Card Stud."

Sakura looked at her cards, the numbers and suits blurring slightly thanks to her inebriation, and she realized she hadn't gotten any chips. About to point out her mistake, Sasuke slammed down a few red chips in front of her (when had he gotten those?) and began murmuring instructions in her ear.

His voice was a deep, dark distraction. How the hell did he expect her to retain anything he was saying when he was talking right into her ear like _that?_

"No limits, blah blah blah," he was saying. "Deuce to seven, blah blah blah."

All she could possibly focus on was the rumbling timbre of his voice. He stood so close behind her that she could feel the heat radiating off his body. Freshly showered, he smelled like aftershave and cologne and other sexy things she'd come to associate exclusively with Sasuke Uchiha. Vaguely aware that it was her turn, she fumbled to reach for the deck to draw a card.

"Uh, all in!" she said brightly, shoving all her chips to the center of the table. Behind her, Sasuke groaned.

"You idiot," he growled in her ear. "You've got nothing!"

"Shh," she shushed him, partially because he was going to ruin her turn, and partially because if said one more thing in her ear, she was going to throw him on the cards table and have her way with him.

Thankfully, their exchange had gone unnoticed by the three other players sitting at the table. Intimidated by a girl throwing in all her money on the first turn, they folded, while Sakura revealed a pair of three's and a shiny smile of victory.

"Have a little faith in me, Sasuke," she chided him, pulling in her winnings. "Hey, get me a drink?"

Sasuke smirked and nodded curtly, letting his fingers trail across her back before he headed towards the bar. Skin on fire, a terrifying heat stealing between her legs, she shuddered and downed the last of her vodka cranberry. That was _not_ an innocent touch, nor was it an accident, because Sasuke Uchiha never had any accidents. He did things purposefully, intentionally…

"First time in Vegas, kid?"

She looked to her right and saw a large guy in his mid-fifties, cigar dangling from the corner of his mouth, giving her the once-over, waiting to be dealt in. His eyes lingered a bit too long on her body, but she figured that when you wore, in Sasuke's words, a black condom for a dress, you deserved looks from creepy old men. Deciding to be nice though and humor him, she replied, "Yeah, is it that obvious?"

The man chuckled as he received his cards. "Pretty thing like you? I wager a guy like me would've noticed a girl like you before if you'd been here. Now what say we get on outta here after this hand, huh? I can show you the sights."

"Thanks anyway," she replied, looking at her own cards, and wishing Sasuke would hurry the hell up already. "I'm here with my…boyfriend." She tripped a little over the word, because it was flat-out untrue to call Sasuke that, but he was acting sort of like a boyfriend that night. It wouldn't be that far a stretch to assume they were together if anyone who didn't know them saw them tonight.

Besides, you told creepy guys you had a boyfriend, because some-guy-who-I'm-not-technically-with doesn't sound anywhere near as intimidating.

"He's a kid, baby," the man laughed, motioning to the dealer to raise the bet. "I can show you Vegas like a man." His meaty hand dropped to her thigh, and he smirked at the scandalized look on her face. "How 'bout it?"

Furious, she bared her teeth at him in the universal symbol of aggression, pushed his hand off her leg, and slammed her cards down on the table without even looking at them. The other players looked slightly nervous as they all revealed their cards, and the dealer pointed towards her to show she'd won, with a full house.

"How 'bout never, dick," Sakura snapped, grabbing piles of chips into her arms and stalking away from the table.

She met Sasuke in the middle of the carpet; he looked confused with two drinks in his hands.

"Don't worry, just some creep," she said carelessly, grabbing the vodka cranberry. He growled a little under his breath and took a step towards the table she'd just fled, but she stopped him, a hand on his chest just because she suspected he'd let her get away with it tonight. "What do you want to play?"

"Tch." Sasuke still looked pissed, but he knocked back the whiskey sour in his hand and headed towards the craps table.

Sakura took a moment to admire him as he walked. There was a confident strut to his step, and even though the floor was terribly crowded, people moved out of the way for him without him needing to ask. His gaze was detached and arrogant, and he didn't seem to notice the hundreds of girls eyeing him openly; everyone in the casino, it seemed, was beneath his notice.

Everyone, she noted delightedly, but her. He looked back to make sure she was keeping up, and smirked.

"You can blow on my dice now, if you want," he said, and the way he said it was almost teasing. Sakura smiled as wide as she could when he was handed two dice. He opened his palm for her, and she batted her eyelashes before pursing her lips and exhaling.

Okay, now she knew she was drunk. Because she had to have imagined the way his eyes darkened when he watched her blow. Keeping eye contact, he threw the dice almost carelessly down the length of the table.

"Eight!" the dealer crowed, and everyone around them cheered. Sakura vaguely realized that Sasuke had won everyone in the vicinity quite a bit of money with that lucky roll, but at the moment, money was the last thing on her mind. Head swimming with alcohol and something like fatal attraction, she felt her traitorous gaze drop to Sasuke's lips and then back to his eyes.

His eyebrows raised, like he knew exactly what that meant, and a slow smirk pulled at his mouth. He took the chips, stuffed them in his pocket, and wound his arm around Sakura's waist, summarily making her melt.

"Let's cash in," he murmured in her ear.

It was way, way, way too early for that, and both of them seemed to have hit quite the lucky streak. But really, Sasuke could have told her, "Let's kidnap an American diplomat and hold him for ransom in the basement," and she would have done it no questions asked. Just as long as he was using that voice.

She was thoroughly, obviously, and embarrassingly aroused, and emboldened by both the Vegas atmosphere and the abundance of free drinks; tapping into a reserve of courage she had never before dared to access, she dragged her fingertips lightly across his neck before standing on tiptoe to whisper back, "And find somewhere a little more…private."

Okay, there was NO imagining the look on his face, one of pure straight desire, and it made her stomach flip to know that she was the cause for it. His arm around her waist suddenly wasn't enough. She wanted more, needed it even, and if he didn't start moving his hands she was going to go crazy.

Figuring she would need a bit more vodka in her blood if things were really headed _that way,_ she knocked back her fourth (or was it fifth?) drink of the night and left the glass on the table.

Along with any misgivings.

* * *

Sasuke led them outside onto the Strip, and they seemed to be headed back for the hotel, but Sakura stopped him.

"Ino and the boys'll be there, probably," she said, managing not to slur her words too badly. "Let's find, like, somewhere else. Or whatever."

He chuckled, apparently amused at her drunkenness, or just equally drunk in his own right. Either way, he pulled her along further down the busy sidewalk, the come-fuck-me heels she was wearing now seeming like quite the oversight.

"My feet hurt!" she whined. "Can we sit somewhere or something?"

"Lazy," he retorted without missing a beat.

"You try wearing these and walking all over creation!" she snapped, but it lacked any real animosity, because this was fucking VEGAS, and there was really nothing to get her upset in the first place.

"It's no one's fault but yours that you dressed so impractically."

"Do you get, like, a boner from being such a condescending asshole all the time?"

His smirk turned absolutely wicked, and she blushed as she realized her mistake. Then tripped. In a cliché, drunk-girl-throwing-herself-obnoxiously-at-a-boy way, too, right over her come-fuck-me heels and right into Sasuke's arms.

"You're surprisingly agile, considering how drunk you are," she giggled, as he pulled her back upright, his hands hot and fiery on her waist. In a rare (drunken) moment of courage, she leaned in close, grinding her hips lightly against his. The friction made her gasp, and drew a ragged groan from Sasuke that in any sober circumstances, he would have been able to suppress.

_ I should've gotten him drunk YEARS ago,_ she thought dazedly.

"Sakura, you…" he exhaled, his breath fanning against her forehead. His grip on her waist tightened. "You're so fucking _hot._"

Never, in a _million_ years, did Sakura think Sasuke Uchiha would ever say something like _that_ to her. There was no mistaking where all this was going, and she was too excited to feel any kind of reluctance. There would be time to regret all this in the morning, right?

"You're hot, too," she breathed back.

"We shouldn't do this," he ground out, inches away now, his hands sliding up her sides to settle in her hair. "This is..we'll regret this tomorrow, won't we?"

So nervous, so unsure, so out of control…all things Sasuke _never_ was, but in the right place, under the right circumstances, under the right _influence…_

"Sasuke I don't think we'll even _remember_ this in the morning," she giggled.

That seemed to be all the clearance Sasuke needed, anyway. Right there, on the Strip in front of the fountains, in the middle of the night and in plain view of _everyone,_ Sasuke kissed Sakura for the first time.

It was like magic, or maybe she was just that _drunk._ But she saw the proverbial fireworks, heard the proverbial gospel choir, as one word: "_Finally!"_ exploded through her mind over and over and over. His hands wandered, no longer nervous, and entirely _certain,_ and she tried desperately to memorize the planes of his chest over his shirt. All pain in her feet was forgotten, all rational thought entirely abandoned. All that mattered in that moment was kissing the life out of Sasuke Uchiha, because she was sure that once the alcohol was filtered through his system, she would _never_ get another chance.

If this was all she would ever get from Sasuke Uchiha, then she needed to make the most of it.

* * *

Of course, if she knew that just twelve hours later, she would find herself the legal wife and partner of Sasuke Uchiha, with absolutely no _memory_ of the incident, maybe she would have tried things just a _bit_ differently.

* * *

**note..** gone for awhile on this one, huh. gonna pick up next chapter, yafeelme. love youuuu!

xoxo daisy :)


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